


show me how much better you are

by docbloom



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Biting, Cunnilingus, F/F, Hair-pulling, Hate Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Series, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 07:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4339094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docbloom/pseuds/docbloom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bedelia takes Alana home after a dinner party. *Fixed*</p>
            </blockquote>





	show me how much better you are

**Author's Note:**

> i was angry and listening to "better than revenge" by taylor swift (which is where the title is from) on repeat at 2 in the morning and this is the result. i've never written femslash before so yeah, sorry in advance!
> 
> not beta'd. 
> 
> i'm not entirely sure if i like this or not so please feel free to leave a comment!

“Such a tragedy, seeing the retirement of such an esteemed psychiatrist, for none other than mental health reasons. I think we can appreciate the irony.” Hannibal laments, eyes tracking the fluid movements of the psychiatrist in question from across the room.

 

Alana hums into her champagne flute before turning around, carefully piecing together a response in her head before letting them reach her lips. As a child she’d never learned to bite her tongue, causing many altercations, physical and otherwise. Now she’d almost entirely perfected the craft, if only for the absence of liquor or anger in her system.

 

“Not entirely.” Is the only response Alana can formulate while continuing to be honest with her friend.

 

“No?” Hannibal seems amused and genuinely curious, most certainly due to the fact that no on ever dares critique Bedelia.

 

“She was being reckless with her patient. When you see someone that obviously breaking and continue to press buttons to send them over the edge…” Alana’s frustration was becoming even more evident.

 

Alana collects herself before speaking sharply. “She wasn’t oblivious to his condition. His blood is on her hands.”

 

“The ruling was self defense, and if you would forgive the morbidity, his blood was quite literally on her hands.”

 

Alana sets her lips in a firm frown. “It’s our jobs to set boundaries for the safety of our patients, to be perceptive and aware of their mental states at all times. If we can’t do that then it renders us futile.”

 

Hannibal looks as though he is thoughtfully mulling over her words as he turns and retrieves more champagne from a passing waiter.

 

“Ah, Dr. Du Maurier, are you enjoying your party?”

 

“Why of course, Dr. Lecter,” she lets a grin lazily spread across her face.

 

“I know your disdain for tedious social events, but I’m glad you could make it.”

 

“Our line of work deals exclusively with socialization. I prefer everything in doses, you see. Everything is better in moderation, I know that’s a hard concept for you.”

 

Hannibal observes her for a few moments, only to smile politely at her. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless.”

 

Du Maurier nods slowly before turning and regarding Alana. The weight of her crystal gaze causing her to flush, with anger or arousal, she can’t seem to differentiate.

 

“Dr. Bloom, I don’t believe we have ever been introduced.” She holds out a manicured hand for Alana to take, which she does.

 

Her hands are soft and Alana wonders what they’d feel like skimming down her thighs.

 

“No, sorry to meet under such unfortunate circumstances.”

 

“Indeed,” Bedelia wears remorse like a sheer shroud. Alana tries not to snort at the atrocity of her acting. The probability of her being able to fake an orgasm for a lover in bed seems highly unlikely.

 

                                                                                                                    ~~~

 

The night continues on, a room full of people trained to observe and knit pick makes for an interesting evening of drawn out metaphors and glass smiles.

 

And Alana, for all her alcoholic tendencies, does manage to drink herself into a state a little past tipsiness but nowhere near black out, drunken oblivion.

 

The music dies down, as does the crowd, until only the guest of honor, the host, and the heretic of it all remain in the entrance, shrugging on coats and giving their obligatory compliments on the fine food.

 

“Alana, I’m afraid I cannot let you drive home in the condition you are in. Let me call a cab.”

 

Alana doesn’t protest, used to the feeling of a cabs interior underneath her from years of experience.

 

“That won’t be necessary Hannibal, I’ll take her home if Dr. Bloom doesn’t object?” She gives Alana a questioning look, resting one hand delicately on her arm. The touch burns.

 

“How generous of you Dr. Du Maurier.” Hannibal notes.

 

“How generous _indeed,_ ” Alana all but sneers in her inebriated state. “I do not object.” She finishes when all she gets from them are questioning looks.

 

Bedelia’s car is nice but not flashy, and smells serenely of the good doctor. All lavender, lilacs, and lilies.

 

“Dr. Bloom,” she all but purrs, making Alana’s jaw clench and the space in between her thighs feel warm. “I’m highly aware of your distaste for me.”

 

Alana doesn’t correct her. “Yet you still wanted to give me a ride home, that says more about you then it does about me.”

 

“I was never going to take you home, Dr. Bloom.”

 

“Oh?” It’s not surprising, but she feels better if she pretends that this isn’t exactly what she had hoped for.

 

“No. The line between hate and love, or more adequately, _lust_ , is blurring for us, it would only be right of me as an academic to postulate theories and then test them, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“Former academic.” Alana corrects.

 

“But you were always aware of my intentions.” It's not an accusation, but an observation. 

  

“Of course. It’s my job to see things for what they truly are.”

 

Bedelia only smirks which in turn makes Alana seethe, and question which of them is actually the cat and which one of them is the canary that is ultimately going to be eaten in the end.

 

                                                                                                                    ~~~

 

They crash unceremoniously into the darkened house. _Where a man died,_ Alana can’t help but note to herself, only she can’t bring herself to think too heavy about what it says about her and her values when Bedelia’s whispering how she wants to taste the rage flowing through her veins between kisses. Kisses that feel more animalistic each time their lips meet again, a heady drive to devour rather than pleasure.

 

Only Alana’s pride won’t allow her to go easily to the former doctor’s bed, her desire to see Bedelia begging and pleading is overwhelming, her cunt throbbing at the notion.

 

So she slams them into a wall, trapping Bedelia with her smaller body, sans heels. Alana grabs the wandering hands bunching up her dress and pins them to the hallway wall above her head.

 

“Do you always make a habit of fucking those who find you pretentious?” Alana nips into her neck, leaving lipstick stains and bruises as she bites her way down to the soft flesh of her breast.

 

Bedelia revels in the sensation of Alana marking her, trembling and gasping. An invitation.

 

“If only for the sake of research, except normally I conduct those types of test in my bedroom.” She explains in a low, breathy voice.

 

Alana growls and releases Bedelia’s wrists before readjusting her dress and allowing herself to be led into the bedroom.

 

It’s extravagant, she must admit, but she doesn’t allow herself to peer around or be impressed when there’s the very taxing matter of watching the former psychiatrist come undone by her hands.

 

She shoves Bedelia onto her own bed, wasting no time delving between her legs to remove her stockings and press her fingers into the damp heat underneath the lacey panties.

 

Bedelia cries out her name, grasping at the ivory sheets.

 

Working two fingers lethargically in and out of her cunt, Alana enjoys in the small sounds she makes. How her coral mouth falls open in bliss whenever Alana grinds the heel of her palm against roughly her clit.

 

Receiving a noise of protest when she removes her fingers, Bedelia watches with an appreciative look as she flings her wrap dress over her head and across the room.

 

“It’s a wonder Dr. Lecter has the will power to resist.” Bedelia remarks as Alana removes her bra and panties, giving them the same treatment as the dress.

 

“ _Shut up_.” Alana hisses, crawling over to cover her body and smash their lips together, tasting wine and lipstick, and grabbing a fistful of blonde curls to yank her head back, prompting Bedelia to scratch down the smooth planes of Alana’s back.

 

She’s aware that she’s drawing blood and she makes a noise into Bedelia’s mouth to encourage her to _keep going_.

 

Taking Bedelia’s lower lip into her mouth Alana _bites hard_ , causing the woman underneath her to swing one leg across her hips and grind them together.

 

Taking it as a cue, Alana gladly shoves her fingers back into her cunt and her tongue into her mouth, massaging into the wet heat of both orifices.

 

“Do you want to fix me Dr. Bloom? Feel my scars heal beneath your hands?” Bedelia questions as Alana scissors her fingers in her cunt.

 

Burying her fingers to the knuckles, she moves and busies her mouth with the other woman’s collarbone, specifically marking it.

 

“You don’t fix what you can’t save.”

 

Bedelia comes with her eyes locked into Alana’s and her fingernails digging into her skin, leaving beautiful, crescent shaped indents for Alana to later press into after she leaves, the taste of Bedelia still on her fingers.

 

Instead of letting her body go lax after her orgasm, Bedelia sits up and guides Alana back against the headboard, throw pillows under her hips, and curls her hands around her pale thighs.

 

“I’ve never felt the need to be saved, Dr. Bloom,” is the last thing she says before taking her clit in between her teeth, sucking gently at it, lapping between her folds as Alana nearly screams, body going live as her anger dissipates and her thighs clench to keep the blonde nuzzling into her pubic hair.

 

Running her fingers through her hair, Alana chants Bedelia’s name like her last prayer, Bedelia drinking her juices like a woman dying of thirst before she inserts one finger aside her tongue.

 

She feels Bedelia tracing patterns of nonsense with her tongue and clenches her inner muscles.

 

“More, I-I need more.” Alana gasps out.

 

“More what?” Bedelia’s voice slightly muffled as she sucks a bruise on the inside of her thigh. Her own claiming.

 

“Just fucking give me more, Bedelia.”

 

Bedelia slows, lazily licking the darkening mark blossoming against her creamy skin.

 

“Just put your goddamn fingers in me, _please_.” Alana pleads, uncaring of the way her voice wavers at the ends.

 

“Since you asked so nicely.”

 

Bedelia inserts fingers until she gets to four and Alana feels stuffed from all the digits plus her tongue.

 

“ _Fuck_!” Alana shouts as she comes shortly after she feels one last bite to her clit.

 

She goes limp and Bedelia removes her fingers, tracing them up her navel, between her breasts, and past the column of her neck until she settles them against her lips and demands she suck them clean.

 

She swirls them around her tongue, taking in the musky flavor of her before grabbing and Bedelia sealing their tryst with a kiss. Bodies glistening above the sheets with sweat, Bedelia still half dressed, and she knows her back has been bleeding onto the pillows. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters when she’s so begrudgingly content with the press of Bedelia’s body against her own.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr at mrgtverger.tumblr.com


End file.
